I do love my little junkets to London Town. The city feels alive, like it’s an actual living organism, it’s got moods too (yes, I know, waxing poetic about a city is a bit cliché but I really do adore London!), and there’s always something new to see, even in places that I often frequent. I also love how native Londoners love London. You see their appreciation on their Instagram accounts.
I’m putting it out there. I want to move to London. I want to live in a place that doesn’t shut down at 5 or 6PM. So that’ll be my goal, to find myself actually living and working in that cosmopolitan city that I love. I know it comes with all the negatives: the high cost of living (the rent and property prices are horrendously overpriced), the pollution, the crush during morning and afternoon rush hours, the almost constant deluge of tourists (the foreign students on a school trip are the worst!). Despite all that (especially the high cost of living), I’d still want to live and work in a city that’s constantly alive and buzzing. I miss that.
Here’s a photo taken from Tower 42 from Open House London just this past weekend.
So apart from my plan to be organised, I need to mobilise!
Next question: does anyone need a highly organised executive assistant that has experience in travel, event management, association management, and has worked in the tax department of an accounting firm? 🙂
I need to get things back on track. My life has been, essentially, been put on hold for 8 weeks. I’ll write about that later because I’m not sure who reads my blog and there are people who I do not want to worry. They have enough on their plate.
I’ve been reading a lot of books and ezines lately about meditation, health, getting organised, getting my career straight and I’ve had a lot of time to think about it. I’ve had time to think about what I want to do and I didn’t want to do; what things I think I can apply to my life, my routine (or lack of it) and what I can keep doing (I am known to have issues with being able to “follow through” and finishing what I start).
My “time out” has helped me think about things and get my head on straight. I am learning to value myself much better. I want to get me back. I will definitely post pictures of my projects.
I’ve read the heart-wrenching book (twice – yes, I thought I could handle it. I was boohooing half-way through the second read because I knew what was to come! My eyelids were sore from all the tear-Kleenex soaking.). I think most of the people who wanted to watch the movie version of Jojo Moyle’s wildly successful book have seen the movie. I’m one of the stragglers. Mostly because Alan didn’t want to watch the movie. I’ve not yet taken to watching a movie on my own here yet.
But I’ve seen it now. Despite the reviews about how it glorified suicide, I think some people took the wrong way and didn’t notice that the movie was about falling in love and letting yourself spread your wings and widen your horizons.
I don’t know if I can review the movie objectively. I’m still sobbing, so, obviously, it has touched me and affected me. It hasn’t made me cry as much as the book, and strangely, Emilia Clarke wasn’t how I pictured Lou at all, but Sam Claflin was a good Will (Sam’s features sort of fit how I pictured Will Traynor in my head). It’s hard to dig into the meat of the story when you only have two hours to go through everything written (if you haven’t read the book, you need to! Remember to get a box of tissues, a bottle of water – you’ll need the water for the possibly dehydration because of the possible crying – and the book.). But it was a good movie. I don’t think Jojo Moyes would be too disappointed.
No I wasn’t in New York, I was in Atlanta the day the two planes crashed into the Twin Towers. I think most of the people in the world who were old enough to remember and understand what happened can remember where they were when they learned about the planes that crashed into the Twin Towers in New York, into the Pentagon in Washington DC and into that field in Pennsylvania.
I was living with my relatives in Atlanta and it started out like a normal Tuesday. I’d started helping my uncle with his medical records. I worked at his clinic, in the back office, Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. They were transitioning into digital records so I was doing data entry for them, taking patient records and inputting all the patient information, doctor’s notes and procedures into a patient records management system that they’d just installed.
I got ready to go to the clinic, went down and had coffee and a piece of toast and left the house with my aunt. We had a small white TV in the kitchen and it was usually switched on whilst we had coffee. Strangely on that day, I don’t remember the TV being on. We got to the office shortly before 9AM. The first plane had already hit the North Tower so it was definitely after 8:46AM. I don’t remember what time we got there. But I remember one of the patients in the waiting room saying “Oh my God!” over and over again whilst staring at the TV.
The TV in the clinic’s waiting room was tuned into CNN (we were in Atlanta after all). I remember switching on the computer and walking to the water cooler to get myself a huge glass of water. I can still remember rounding the corner and walking into the waiting room. I remember looking at the television and seeing the the second plane crash into the South Tower. I can still see it. I don’t think it’s something you can “unsee”. It’s one of those images that embeds itself permanently in your brain. I’m sure it all happened in real time but it I know that I can see it in slow motion. How the plane flew straight into the South Tower and the ball of fire that exploded shortly after.
The rest of the day passed into a blur. I don’t remember much about what happened except for all the TV watching we did. There were a few panicked hours because we couldn’t get in touch with my cousin and her husband who were both in New York. But at the end of the day, we were all accounted for, safe and sound, rattled, unsettled and terrified, but scared.
I think I never really understood the feeling of helplessness until that day. Even now, it isn’t difficult to remember the feeling of not being able to wrap my mind around the enormity of what happened to America on that day. The shock, grief, utter helplessness and eventual anger that everyone felt on that day. It will always be a day that I will sit quietly and think about life, how blessed I am to have all my loved ones with me. My heart goes out to all those people who lost their loved ones on that day, not just in New York but in Washington DC and in Pennsylvannia. We will never forget all those senseless deaths. Know that we will always remember.
Last year, in November, was the first time I went back to New York after that day in 2001. We went to the 9/11 Memorial and did the walking tour with a firefighter and a lady who worked in an office across the street from the World Trade Center. Before we went on the tour, we walked around the 9/11 Tribute Center. I was fighting the tears by the time we finished walking around the exhibition. Our tour guides talked about their experiences, what happened to them on that horrible day. It was heart-breakingly poignant. They were ordinary people who were thrust into extraordinarily horrific circumstances. But what struck me was the underlying spirit of hope and the indomitable human spirit.
The enduring Sphere sculpture by Fritz Koenig was once the center of the the Austin J. Tobin Plaza.
We must all never forget. We must all remember so that this will never happen again. We should always try to walk in someone else’s shoes. Our first response must always be peace. We must always be guided by love.
Well, okay, strictly speaking, this turn of phrase applies to people moving from the States to the UK, the pond being the Atlantic Ocean, and strictly speaking, the flight route from Manila to Heathrow doesn’t necessarily involve flying over the Atlantic Ocean at all. But allow me the poetic license.
It was 8 years ago, on a hot and muggy afternoon, that I got on a plane with two suitcases and moved to the UK. When I watched The Woman in Gold, a line that the character Gustav Bloch-Bauer said struck me as true for every Filipino who has moved countries: “We [will do] everything to contribute and belong and we are proud of what we’ve done.” This is true not just for every Filipino, but for everyone who has left home to find a better life. For those of us who do, we go to our chosen country, respect and follow its laws, its social mores, its norms, learn the language, the vernacular and its culture. We want to be productive citizens and we want to contribute, we want to make sure that we put our best foot forward because we know, intrinsically, that whatever we do, our actions reflect back on our country, whatever we do forms people’s opinions of our country.
I’ve learned a lot in the 8 years that I’ve moved, about myself and about what I am able to do. But the learning won’t stop there. There are more experiences to be had and more lessons to be learned. God has blessed me with the opportunity to expand my territory, and has surrounded me with people who will always have my best interests and well being at heart who are willing co-travelers with me on this journey of continuous self-discovery (awwwww!!!)♥
The original version of this post is in my personal blog.
I used to buy salt and chilli belly pork from Asda prepacked, premade and frozen. The pork was lovely, and the flavours were simple, uncomplicated and delicious. There is nothing more enjoyable than straightforward goodness. But then Asda chose to discontinue the frozen version of the salt and chilli belly pork that I liked (I’d tried the “fresh” refrigerated version and it didn’t taste as nice for some reason). I’d lost my go-to freezer staple and I didn’t like the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. It felt like I was losing a good friend for reasons unknown!
Luckily, I still had the packaging sleeve in my recycling bag so I looked at the ingredients list one evening and thought I could actually make the ingredient list a bit simpler. The taste reminded me of rotisserie pork that was readily available in the Philippines, so I started from there. Salt and pepper were the mainstays of this lovely Filipino “fast food” option.
There are only 5 ingredients to this lovely no-fail recipe. Of course you can change the herb of choice added (I’ve tried dill and it works!), remove the chilli and replace it with just pepper, add soy sauce instead of salt…the permutations can go on forever! Feel free to customise this recipe according to your tastes! The beauty of this is that you can make it ahead of time and just store it in the fridge and take it out when you’re ready to cook it. Oh, and like the supermarket version that inspired me to create this recipe, this freezes well too! I usually have a pack in the freezer ready for when I can’t think of what to cook for supper. It’s a reliable old stand-by dish!
Enjoy!
Oh and I’d love to hear how you got on with the recipe, if you try it!
Ingredients:
500g pork belly strips, rind removed
1 heaping teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon dried parsley
1-2 teaspoons chilli flakes (depending on how spicy you want it)
3-4 tablespoons vegetable oil
Directions:
Mix salt, spices and oil together in ziplock lock bag (other brands of resealable bags are acceptable!). Add the belly pork slices and marinade for at least 2 hours, even better if marinated overnight.
Preheat oven to 200C.
Line a baking tin with parchment paper and lay the belly pork slices. Place in the middle of the oven. Bake the belly pork slices for 30 minutes, turning the belly pork slices halfway (you can also choose to cook this on the barbecue!).
The belly pork slices will come out lovely and brown. Cut into bite-sized chunks and serve.
This is great with rice and greens — or if you’re watching carbs like me, just greens (like wilted kale or cabbage, or steamed pak choi or choi sum).
I’d love to hear from everyone reading the blog. It’s nice to have a conversation. Could I ask y’all to say hello please and leave comments on the post please. Feedback is always good!
This may sound trite, but I do look forward to hearing from you!
I’ve been suffering lately. I went to see the doctor recently to ask whether I needed to have my hands looked at again. I suffer from carpal tunnel syndrome. It doesn’t help that I make my living working on the computer and keyboard. After an exam (it wasn’t just my hands and wrists bothering me really but I thought the muscle pains were a result of my body readjusting itself to deal with the pain in my hands), the doctor said he didn’t think it was a simple case of the CTS flaring up again. So he’s sent me off for tests. We shall find out what this stupid thing is when my doctor comes back from his 2-week vacation.
I am back in business – I have an iPhone again (thank you Alan!♥) and (stupidly) it feels like all is right in my world again. It’s funny how I felt so disconnected and incomplete without the phone. I suppose it was the convenience of using the iPhone that I got used to, how seamlessly it connected to my phone, my camera, my laptop and everything else. I didn’t see myself as a person who needed a lot of tech. I used to say that all I needed was a phone that could make phone calls and send text messages. I remember resisting getting on the iPhone bandwagon and sticking staunchly to my little Nokia 6300 when I moved to the UK. It could take photos and do everything else I needed it to do. I was happy. Then I was introduced to the weird, wonderful and oh-so-user friendly world of the iPhone (I do love you Steve Jobs♥). I was hooked and I never really looked back after that. Imagine having everything fit in the palm of your hands, have everything you need to communicate with the world – emails, text messages, phone calls, social media, music, entertainment (aka games), calendar and planner, and the internet in one little gadget. After I didn’t have the phone (because I stupidly lost it on the train), I felt completely lost and very disconnected – despite the fact that I had a replacement phone that could do what the iPhone could do (I’m sorry Microsoft, your Windows 10 phone is great, maybe even amazing, but it just felt slow and clunky when I was using it). Maybe it’s just that I became a Mac person instead of a PC person. Alan says it’s like taking the rail replacement service when the train services are buggered – it gets you to where you want to go, but the journey isn’t necessarily enjoyable.
I have, however, taken steps to make sure that I do not lose my phone again. My phone will now be connected to my bag at all times. I bought a case that allows a lanyard to be attached to it. My bag has a little do-hickey that I can secure the lanyard to, to make sure that I never lose my phone (I know, never say never, but in this case, I will!). So even if I put the phone down on the train, when I stand up, the phone will come with! Ingenious really.
In other news, I made lamb biryani from scratch tonight. For the very first time. And (yes, cooking faux pas coming up), it was GOOD! Get me, eh? Frozen lamb chunks from the freezer section (bargain!), herbs, spices, rice and a stock pot, et voila! Comfort cooking and comfort eating heaven! I got the recipe from Alan, who got the recipe from The Telegraph. As with all my successful attempts at trying to cook food I’ve only ever tried in the UK, I wonder if I can replicate the feat in Manila when I visit the folks. I think my dad would like it.
When I was little, I sat next to my Tita Migen’s portable Olivetti typewriter and lovingly trailed my fingertips on the keys. I wasn’t allowed to use it. I was told that it wasn’t a toy. My aunt was a writer and she wrote short stories and articles for various women’s magazines in the Philippines. One of her poems (it could be more than just the one, I can’t remember properly) was published in an anthology of poems written by the great and the good of Philippine literature.
At 9, I wrote an updated version of The Little Match Girl for our school Christmas party. I remember that I called the main character Marina. I don’t even know why I called her that. But my “writing” the script for the “play” necessitated making several copies of the script. So my aunt relented and allowed me to use her typewriter. I loved it. I loved the clickety-clack sound the typewriter made as I copy-typed my handwritten script (I was a two-finger typer, of course!). I loved the smell of paper and onion skin (this was of course the mid-80s) and the way you had to be careful because you needed to make sure the carbon paper wouldn’t smudge the onion skin and your fingers. I loved it. I loved putting my words down in typeset. It was the most exhilarating thing I’d ever done (not too hard to top as I was, after all, only in third grade).
Whenever I was asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I always said I wanted to be a doctor. But writing always niggled at me. I always asked myself “what if I could write for a living instead?”
One summer, I think I was thirteen or fourteen, having read all the summer reading books (Nancy Drew, Sweet Dreams teen romances, the classics, of course) I had access to (I daren’t attempt to read any of my mum’s Mills & Boon books because I was told those were for older readers), I took one of my composition notebooks and started writing a story. It kept me out of trouble that summer! After reading what I wrote, I covered the notebook in wrapping paper and plastic cover and promptly forgot about the story. Years later, my sister told me she read my “novel” and she said it was good. My sister is the writer in our family, so I took that as a compliment! I also fancied myself a poet (yes, I didn’t know whether I wanted to write poetry, prose or opinions!) and wrote stream-of-consciousness poems in a brown wire-bound Hello Kitty notebook which I bought from a bookstore called Alemar’s (don’t ask me why I remember those details, I just do!). I’d love to read those poems again. I’m sure they’ll be cringe-worthy but it’ll probably be a good laugh!
I am thankful that blogging has become a platform available to everyman. Because it has helped me indulge in my creative efforts. Not that I have actually written another story, short or otherwise, since my last foray into novel-writing. I’m just thankful I can write and send my thoughts out there. I may not earn my living from my thoughts but there is a certain satisfaction in being able to write down what you’re thinking and sending it out into the cosmos.
I would love to earn my living just talking about what I think about things. I would love to be able to express my opinions and make a living out of that. Ha! Does anyone want someone with verbal diarrhea? I know we all have to be very PC these days, and admittedly, I can be extremely un-PC, but I would love to just be able to talk about anything and everything under the sun! Or write about it! And, of course, get paid for it.
I’m putting it out there. I’m sending it out in the universe. Because I want to do something other than sit at a desk and work as an executive assistant.
Clara Ortega said “ To the outside world we all grow old. But not to brothers and sisters. We know each other as we always were. We know each other’s hearts. We share private family jokes. We remember family feuds and secrets, family griefs and joys. We live outside the touch of time.” And I agree.
To me you will always be the little boy who “break dances” by spinning on the floor, on his tummy, the one who invents words, our source of joy and entertainment. I pray that you will be blessed beyond your desires, because we are so very blessed by you.
Yellywelly 